You’re on your death bed, family members all around you, and suddenly you can’t see them anymore. A figure, a Native American man, is floating near the foot of your bed and he says to you, “Behold the light.” He gestures with his right hand and an opening appears. You see a community where everyone is dressed in white clothing decorated with variously-colored bands of beads. Male and female, they are happy, smiling, moving about from place to place, some working, others shopping, some having lunch together. You see a chorale harmonizing on a stage, and then a woman running into the street to save a stray dog from the wheels of a carriage. The incredible blue of the sky catches your attention, the air is fresh and clear—you can sense this from your bed. A white-haired man who seems an Elder of the man floating above your bed, appears right next to you, smiling. Extending a hand, he says, “Come, now.”
You can’t believe this is happening. You’re not an Indian! You’re a man of influence! Who are those people dressed in white? The place is beautiful but there is no conflict there. Everyone seems unnaturally peaceful. “Robots?” you think. “No, that’s not right. Something has changed in that world—they live there without conflict, as if they’re of one mind. One mind?” you ask yourself. “That’s dreadful. What about my mind? Would it disappear if I go there?”
The Elder fades and the first Native American man, still floating above the end of your bed, says, “Behold the land of struggle,” and gestures with his left hand. An opening appears and if you weren’t this very moment dying, you would leap from your bed. A T-Rex dinosaur is stepping out of that world on top of you.
When you gasp and gurgle, your son says, “Dad? Dad, what is it?” But his voice barely registers as you watch the T-Rex look over it’s shoulder, roar and then run away. A mob of wild, hairy men wearing nothing more than rags around their loins runs to the opening. The one is front growls, enraged at you for some reason. He raises his spear as if to finish you off; you are terrified, but cannot scream. Your family members watch in horror as your face contorts with fear. Then the opening closes and you begin to breath again, slowly.
“Dad, are you okay? What’s going on?” But all you can see is the Native American man floating above you.
He says, “It is time. If harmony is your choice, you will go with Grandfather into the World of Light. You may choose the other world, but if you do, know that you will begin another cycle on the great wheel of time, as a prehistoric man on another planet, evolving over a very long period to a level of awareness similar to where you are now. You will then be faced with this decision again.”
Finally, you can speak. “Will I remember there,” and you point to where the T-Rex was, “who I am now, what I left behind?”
Your son says, “Dad, thank God! What is going on?” Still, you can’t hear him.
The Native American man says, “No, you will be very similar to an animal, primitive, and you will remember nothing of the advances you have made over your many lifetimes. Is that your preference?”
You pause to weigh the choices. You can tell in the world of harmony that the bodies of those people are so light, they may soon change into Beings of Light. “What does that mean?” you wonder. You have your suspicions: no money, no sex, no competition—at least, not as you know them now. Then you think of the prehistoric world and how terrible the life is there. “Those people can’t live to be very old. But that fight to survive—I understand it. That world is a safe place for me.” A laugh bubbles up from deep within you; you are pleased with the irony of your thought, and your decision.
Your laugh sounds like another gurgle to your family, and you draw your last breath.
The opening to the prehistoric world appears again and your soul rises up from your body and passes into that world, above it, where you await the opportunity to be born. From this vantage point, you see a large hairy man-like creature grab a pregnant woman by the hair and throw her to the ground. She screams; he falls on top of her and forces himself into her, grunting and biting her on the neck. She cries and fights, but he is very large and strong. When he is finished he stands, picks her up by the hair with one hand and throws her to the side of the path. She curls into a fetal position, cradling her abdomen, sobbing.
Suddenly you realize this is your mother, and that she has gone into labor. The last thing you remember before your soul prepares to enter the body in her womb, is of the choice you made and you think, “Dear, God, what have I done?”